Friday, 23 November 2007

Deep into the forestthe trees have turnedblack, and the sunhas disappeared inthe distance beneaththe earth line, leavingthe sky a palette of grayssheltering the pine treeswith pitch-tar shadows.It is here in this blackand sky gray the mindturns psychotosses norms and pathosinto a ground cellar of hell,tosses words out through the teeth."Don't smile or act funny,try to be cutewith me;how can I help you todayout of your depression?"I fell jubilant, I feel over the moonwith euphoric gaiety.Damn I just feel happy!Back into the wood of sombernessback into the twigs,sedated the psychiatristScribbles, notes, nonsense on a pad of yellow paper:"mania, oh yes, mania, I prescribelithium, do I need to call the police?"No sir, back into the dark woods I go.Controlled, to get my meds.Twist and rearrange my smile,crooked, to fit the immediate need.Deep in my forestthe trees have turned black again.To satisfy the conveyer.The Lord of the dark wood.

Thursday, 15 November 2007

But first, not always loss, rhapsodic claims,a cow inflexible but for its tail, a horse's reply.But first, compelling as a thought, desire for unspent inner spacesthat neither mountain scapes or waterfalls satisfy.

A customary smile restored,a zeroing out of each interrogation.But first, braced for the next,as an inattentive prompter looks away.A permanent remorse settles.The sky closes downto grosbeaks on a branch,

to a stream's asynchrounous beat.

A lengthening shadow comprising three parts magiccovers an unfettered inside.Coifed hair,collapsible chairscharacterize a sun stunned patio.And who was it that was once there, who was it that collaborated in timely banteras any two heads deal in closely held secrets?What singular event holds steadfast?Black-capped chickadees feed at the birdfeeder

A crow tops off a telephone pole.Interpolated, dispelled,

whispering from among the fallen.Results tabulated are inconclusive.Still, the sky is breached,an ancient resemblance redeems,the shore clear of debris.

Light fades gently in summer twilight;hills cut-out, black on an egg-shell sky.Town lights shimmer, the Sound flat calm.You hold your breath and Shetland sinksher claws in you, beds down.At the crack of fireworks from the Bressay sidea seal scouts out, slips under soundlessly.Rockets burst high over dark waterone after another. Above us, the sky isa swirl of petticoats, a whirl in the darkening.There’s something about beauty poured outthat catches in the throat; about the prodigalthat leaves us speechless, wondering,like with the ocean, the breaking surf.

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